The Lazy Adventure
by SlackTheKing
Summary: Malic had always been good with Pokemon, but never gave any thought to becoming a trainer, until he found himself about to be kicked out of the orphanage he had lived his whole life in. He applies to become a Hoenn league sponsored trainer under the new Pokemon World Organization, but nothing could have prepared him for the journey he was about to embark on. AU Realistic Pokemon
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own, nor am I affiliated with, Pokemon or any of the characters used except for the OC's created by me. **

_Long ago, before the world was even created, there was an egg. This egg was a singularity, a pinprick of order inside a realm that was nothing but chaos. From this egg sprung Arceus, the first pokemon to ever come into being. His immense power radiated outward and created order in the realm of his birth. Arceus channeled the former disorder and formed 3 beings from it._

_First, Arceus created from the folded streams of time Dialga, the guardian of Time. He then molded the distortions of space into Palkia, the guardian of Space. Lastly, understanding that order must have disorder, he gathered what remained of the chaotic energy and created Giratina, the guardian of Chaos. Arceus was proud of his creations, but soon, Giratina grew arrogant and opposed his creator, trying to reassert the former chaos. Enraged, Arceus smote Giratina down and banished him to an alternate world, the Distortion World, where he would remain trapped for his arrogance._

_While the struggle between Arcues and Giratina was going on, Dialga and Palkia gathered the chaotic energy generated by Giratina and mixed it with the orderly energy of Arceus. Palkia confined it in place while Dialga accelerated time around it, flashing it through millions of years almost instantaneously. The result was a balance between order and chaos, creation and destruction. It was the universe. Afterwards, Dialga and Palkia both went to their own dimensions of Time and Space._

_Arceus, seeing the creation of Dialga and Palkia, decided to inhabit this creation with beings of his own design. Thus, he created Uxie, Mespirit, and Azelf, beings of knowledge, emotion, and willpower respectively. He then sent them out into the universe to serve as the basis for all other sentient beings. The trio wondered the universe for years, until they came upon a particular planet. Between the three of them, they created Mew, perhaps the most adaptable pokemon ever to exist. Mew's DNA was unique in the fact that it was able to adjust itself to meet any conditions. The trio continued to produce Mew, and soon the population covered the planet._

_The planet was dry and barren however, so the trio petitioned Arceus to transform the world into something more suitable. In response, Arceus created another Trio of beings. Kyogre, Lord of the Seas, Groudon, Lord of the Land, and Rayquaza, Lord of the Sky. Between these three, the seas were filled, a massive land mass was created, and an atmosphere was formed. The world was flourishing, and the Mew multiplied even further._

_That is, until Groudon and Kyogre clashed. A vicious battle ensued over the dominance of sea versus land. The fighting grew so great that Rayquaza had to descend from the atmosphere to stop the fighting. Eventually, Rayquaza was able to pacify the 2 legends, and Arceus himself created 2 caverns for them to return to. He then placed them in a deep slumber, and removed their consciousness, sealing them into 2 orbs, preventing them from reawakening and resuming their conflict._

_The battle between Groudon and Kyogre had created monumental mountains, deep ocean trenches, and everything in between. The damage to the land was so immense, that it began to crumble, magma from the earths core erupting all over. To save his creations, Arcues created a gigantic Titan of immense size known as Regigigas. Regigigas grasped the earth, and with his godly strength, ripped apart the original land mass, preventing destruction from befalling the entire land. He fashioned several pieces, and moved them around the planet, trying to reduce the chance of total destruction as much as possible. To help with this, Regigigas created 3 smaller titans to help him contain the backlash of the Kyogre and Groudon battle. From clay, he created Regirock, from ice, Regice, and from the magma, Registeel. Together, the 4 titans created the continents seen in modern day. However, in order to do so, the titans expended much of their energy, and were no longer able to sustain their true forms. So, in order to preserve themselves, they shrunk and condensed their power, and fell into hibernation, where they still remain to modern day._

_Tens of thousands of years later, due to the diverse climates and the Mew populations being separated geographically from each other, the Mew began to change. Gradually, the changes to the DNA was enough to classify as a totally different species, and thus, the first species of pokemon were born._

-Excerpt from _Myth and Science: The Origin of Pokemon_ by Professor Aurea Juniper

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The town of Grovewood was, in a word, quaint. This small town was situated deep in the forest, practically isolated, with their closest neighbors being Littleroot town, located a few miles west, and connected by a narrow dirt road. The town boasted a population of a little over a thousand, just large enough to register as a town. It was the sort of town where everyone knew everyone, doors were left unlocked and open, and children ran outside, free of supervision.

The town itself was only a couple square miles and was made up of 2 circles of buildings. The inner circle was composed of the local businesses, the town hall, the small clinic, and the post office, as well as the local market. The outer ring were the residences, homes to all the people of Grovewood, excluding the few farmers that lived further out, and the orphanage that was situated just outside the ring of houses. The entirety of Grovewood was encircled by a large wooden wall, made up of wood from the Iron Sap tree that grew in the surrounding forests. It was called this for the thick sap it secretes that hardens into something akin to iron. By coating the wall with this sap, Grovewood, despite not being under the protection of Ranger or Ace trainer patrols, was able to live fairly peacefully and undisturbed by local pokemon attacks.

An hour or so before dawn, in a large room of Grovewood's orphanage, packed with 2 rows of cots containing sleeping, snoring boys of varying ages, a figure could be seen rising from one of the beds. It slid silently out from under the sheets and blankets, standing up to a respectable height of about 5'10". It pauses for a moment, its head turning from side to side slightly, scanning the room. Seeing that no one else has awoken, it kneels and pulls something out from under its bed. Holding the object in one hand, it turns to a large window right next to the cot it was on.

Faint moonlight streams through the window, cutting a line across the room as the moon starts to appear from behind a cloud. The stream of moonlight starts to move over the figure, bathing it in a wash of warm soft light. A sketchbook is the first thing struck by the moonlight, its worn and faded black leather cover held by a pale hand.

As the moonlight creeps upward, the figure is revealed to be a young man in his later teens with dark red hair, which fell to about mid-way down his shoulder blades, and 2 jaw length bangs framing his face. His pale and angular face is accented by the moonlight, highlighting his bright cyan eyes and sharp cheekbones as the light drifts across his face. He is clothed in a simple grey tee shirt with similarly colored shorts, made from cheaply acquired Mareep wool.

His eyes squint slightly in the light, his blank expression shifting slightly, making small wrinkles on the corners of his eyes and slight furrows in his brow. His eyes blink rapidly for a few seconds, adjusting to the light before extending a hand, and undoing the latch holding the window closed. He eases the window open, the hinges making slight squeaks now and then, and he steps out of the window, quietly going onto a ledge just below the windowsill. He pushes the window back closed, and slides to the left, grabbing an edge of the roof.

Placing the sketchbook between his teeth, he reaches up with the other hand, grabs the roof's edge, and lifts himself up, until his upper body is flat against the roof. He throws a leg up to the side and manages to pull up the rest of his body. Rolling over, he lays with his back flat against the roof. He places the sketchbook beside him, and lays there, just gazing up at the night sky. The clouds had mostly drifted away, leaving the stars and moon visible, shining brightly up above in the dark black sky.

As the sky begins to lighten up, and the moon and stars begin to lose their luster, the boy sits up, and turns towards the east, where a dull orange glow is beginning to show above the horizon. Grasping his sketchpad, he opens it, revealing a selection of colored pencils places in small elastic holders on the inside of the cover, along with the name Malic written just above the pencils in silver metallic calligraphy. He grasps a few different colors, starting with reds, oranges, and yellows, but also a few pinks, purples, and blues, and starts drawing the sunrise, just as the sun is coloring the new morning sky.

Time blends together just like the colors on the page, and within the hour, a gorgeous Hoenn sunrise was drawn in detailed and masterful strokes on the formerly blank page as Malic stretches out on the roof again, hands folded behind his head. He relaxes, basking in the sunlight, and quickly nods off, the sketchbook closed and resting on his stomach.

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Ms. Chloe Banks woke up at 7:30, the warm sunbeams flickering into her room through the lacey curtains, lighting up the room. She slowly makes her way out of bed, carefully placing her feet into slippers to avoid touching the cool floor. Chloe was the matron of the Grovewood orphanage and had been for the past 40 years.

At 64, she remains spry for her age, her hair an almost uniform shade of grey that curls right below her ears. Her green eyes, once vibrant and bright, have dulled some with age, but remain sharp and still hold a hint of their previous spark. She stands up and proceeds into her bathroom, grabbing clothes along the way. She dresses herself, wearing a long, almost ankle length grey skirt and a white blouse with small flower patterns woven in along the sleeves. Her small round spectacles are perched on her nose, making the world come into focus.

At precisely 7:45, she exits her room and makes her way to the kitchen, where she sets about preparing breakfast for her children. She mixes various berries into oatmeal, creating swirls of vibrant blues and pinks and purples in the duller brown of the food. She sets out a bowl per chair situated at the huge long table that occupies most of the dining room, the dark wood stained with a long history of spilt food and drink across its surface.

At 8:15, she rings a bell, signaling to all the children that breakfast is ready. Soon, the stampede of little bare feet slapping against the wooden floor echoes through the orphanage, as a cacophony of conversations welcomes the new morning. About 20 kids pour into the dining area and take their seats. The Grovewood orphanage takes in all orphans from not only Grovewood, but also from Littleroot and Oldale town as well. Chloe sits at the head of the table, her smile wide and bright as she gazes at all the children laughing and chatting as they tuck in and enjoy their meal. As her gaze sweeps across the table, her eyes spot an empty seat near the back-right corner. She sighs as she realizes that, yet again, Malic is not here.

"Children," She says loudly as she claps her hands several times. The sound of the claps along with her voice stills the conversations, as they all look towards her. "Has anyone seen Malic this morning?" She inquires as indicates to his empty seat. The children all look at each other, and a variety of responses echo around the room, but all meaning the same thing: "We haven't seen him Ms. Chloe." She simply puts a hand on her head, massaging her temples with her thumb and middle finger, "Now where could that boy have gone?" She stands up and starts heading for the stairs, throwing a look over her shoulder, "Now, you all finish your breakfast while I try to find him."

She trudges up the stairs, and strides into the boy room, noticing the messed up beds and tossed pillows with resigned amusement. Chloe heads to Malic's bed, and notices the relatively unruffled sheets and blanket, and the unlatched window off to the side.

She opens the window, enjoying the wind ruffle her hair for a few moments, before shouting, "MALIC!" Her voice rings out into the forest and the town, the townsfolk barely reacting to the now daily event that signals the start of their day as startled Tailow shoot into the air.

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As the shout from Ms. Chloe reverberates through the air, Malic's eyes crack open, his sleep disturbed. Blearily, he sits up, his hand wiping his eyes free from sleep as he glances around. 'Ah, guess I fell asleep again' he muses as he stands up and walks down towards the edge he came up from. He slides down the roof, hands catching the edge and swinging himself onto the window ledge. Ms. Chloe is standing there, her hands on her hips and her left foot tapping on the ground as she lightly glares at Malic. "And where were you young man?" Malic stares at her with his eyes still half lidded, a bored expression on his face as he stretches, "The roof."

Her glare intensifies some, but she sees the lack of effect it has, and sighs, slumping slightly. "Malic, you know that you're not supposed to do that. What if the others tried to copy you?" Malic's face falls slightly, and he grips his sketchbook a bit tighter, imagining some of the younger kids dangling from the roof, their hands slipping and falling. "Sorry," was his one-word response as he walks around her towards the dining room, shoulders tense as he resolves to be more careful with his nightly escapades. As he steps closer to the dining room, the sound of children grows louder, the innocent giggles and conversations bringing a faint smile to Malic's face as he enters the room.

The children turn to see him come through the doorway, and they all smile and call out his name, "Malic!" They pour out of their chairs and surround him, their tiny bodies milling about his legs and waist, small hands grabbing onto his arms and clothing as they all talk at once towards him. His smile grows a bit more pronounced, and his eyes crinkle slightly, but happily as he converses with the children in short sentences. Ms. Chloe smiles from behind them, her eyes shining with happiness as she witnesses Malic's rare smile.

Malic was the oldest of the children by several years at 17, and they all looked up to him. He was such a softie with children, always patient and kind, never one to be upset with their attention. 'If only everyone could see this side of Malic, but unfortunately, it's only the children.' At this thought, her smile becomes less pronounced. One of her greatest regrets was not finding a family to adopt and provide for Malic, who came to her when he was just 5 years old. He was found wandering the forest surrounding Grovewood, and nobody came to claim him. Over the years, she had tried countless times to get him adopted, but all the families rejected him. His repressed emotions and reserved demeanor created the illusion of an apathetic child, but Ms. Chloe knew better. She knew that he had just as much emotions as anyone else, but it only really showed when he was interacting with children, or pokemon. The pokemon in the forest surrounding the orphanage seemed absolutely enamored by Malic, and often Tailow could be seen dropping by to pose for one of his drawings, or Zigzagoon to beg for treats.

She follows Malic and the children outside, breakfast forgotten as the children run and play around the edges of the forest and the open field at the back of the orphanage. Malic stands in the middle of them, keeping watch over them, chasing them with a small smile as the children squeal with joy. 'If only it could be this way forever,' She thinks while watching her children, her family, with tears building in the corner of her eyes.

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After playing with the children for an hour or two, Malic heads into town, now clothed in dark blue jeans, with signs of holes sporadically ripped in the legs, and sections of other blue cloth sown onto those holes, creating a patchwork of varying shapes and colors of blue. His top is covered by a simple black tee shirt, bearing only a blue Pokeball logo on the front, which is about 6 inches in diameter and directly over the left side of his chest. He passes into the middle ring, walking through the home-grown shops selling various local goods, until he reaches the general store.

He passes through the wooden door, a small bell attached above chiming as he steps in and closes the door behind him. The store is small, but filled with shelves containing a multitude of goods, ranging from canned foods to tools to clothing. An older man, with skin tanned and worn by the sun and weather stands manning the counter, his shock of white hair falling limply atop his head as he glances over and sees Malic. He gives Malic a slight grin and waves an arm at him. "Ah Malic, here for Chloe's usual order I assume?" Malic gives a curt nod, his face blank, except for a small upwards curve on the corner of his lips.

The man chuckles to himself as he goes into a small back room, and returns a minute later carrying several rather large canvas bags. "Here's all she ordered, plus a little extra for the kids," He winks at Malic as he hands over the bags. Malic accepts them without a word and places a hundred pokedollar bill on the counter. He then picks up the bags and heads out the door, arms loaded with groceries.

As he passes through town, the path lined with shops and booths, he overhears two teens, probably a year or two younger than himself, talking in loud and animated tones. "Did you see the announcement on the board!?" The older of the two talks with his hands, excitedly waving them in the direction of the towns message board.

"No, I haven't! What's on there?" The other teen, a few inches smaller and seemingly a bit more reserved, questioned with a slightly lees excited tone. "There's a Pokemon World Organization announcement, and it says that they are recruiting trainers! They'll even sponsor them!" The two teens practically jump in place as their excited conversation gets too fast paced for Malic to keep track of.

Malic turns towards the path leading to the message board, and shrugs, walking down it. After a minute or two of walking through bustling paths, he eventually arrives at the message board, a huge cork board, framed with thick polished wooden posts. A bright poster catches his eyes, along with the stylized Metagross and Salamence clashing in a depiction of a fierce battle.

Curiously, Malic approaches and begins to read the top line written in bold print. "Become a Sponsored Trainer of the PWO, the Pokemon World Organization!" Malic blinks, and then begins to read more intently. "Send your applications in now to Professor Birch in Littleroot town! On August 24th, all applicants will be escorted to Littleroot town, where they will be given a starting pokemon of their very own! The PWO and the Hoenn league will sponsor you and provide you with your pokemon adventuring essentials! So, join now, and start your very own adventure on August 24th!"

The poster then gives some details, such as what address to mail the application to, as well as what to put on the application. Malic stares at the poster, and slowly reaches up a hand, snatches the poster off the board, and puts it into his jeans pocket. He then resumes his walk back to the orphanage, a light breeze teasing the edge of his shit and waving the tips of his hair in the wind.

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Malic stares at the poster, holding up in front of his face as he lies on top of the roof again. The sun slowly sets coloring the sky rich shades of red and orange and tinting the clouds with pink and purple edges. His eyes dart across the poster for the thousandth time, scanning the lines of text that promise an escape, an opportunity. It hadn't escaped him that with each passing year, as he grew older and remained unadopted, Ms. Chloe's eyes grew sadder and sadder.

He hadn't known why until about a year ago, when he overheard Ms. Chloe on the phone. The orphanage was state sponsored, and the law is that once someone has turned 18, they are to be ejected from the orphanage. Ms. Chloe had pleaded on his behalf, but the law was firm, and in 2 months, he was to be evicted. Unfortunately for Malic, the job opportunities in Grovewood are sparse, as most are family run businesses, passed along the generations.

The other option is to move, but that presents its own problem. He has little funds, no job experience, and no family. Sure, he had taken classes at the school in town, but he didn't get a certificate or official papers signaling that he had any sort of proficiency in anything. Malic sighs, his thoughts about the future weighing him down. He hadn't had any hope for the future, until this poster. This could be his key, the opportunity to make a life for himself. Sure, it hadn't been what he had planned, but what choice did he have.

Malic took a piece of paper from his sketchbook, flattened it against the roof, and began to fill out the application, giving his name, age, current place of residency, and other details, such as pokemon experience, schooling etc. After filling the page front and back in a tight, neat penmanship, he folds it into thirds. He withdraws a slightly rumpled envelope from his pocket, places the paper into it, and seals it. On the front, he scrawls out the address given on the poster, and places a Pelipper stamp on the front.

First thing tomorrow, he'd mail out his application. As he swings back into the room, his eyes fall to a calendar hanging on the wall with days marked out with X's. He grabs a black marker, and carefully draws an X through today, August 22nd. Little did he know that in only a few short days, his life would be irrevocably changed.

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Ms. Chloe was waiting for Malic as he walked back from giving the letter to the local Pelipper mail delivery service. She was on the porch of the orphanage, sitting on one of the rocking chairs situated just beside the front door. "Ah, Malic. I was wondering where you had gone off to so early in the morning. Care to fill in an old woman?" She leans in with an inquisitive expression as he walks up the front path. He wordlessly steps up to her and hands her the folded-up poster from inside his pocket.

She takes it from his hands and adjusts her spectacles as she unfolds it and begins to read. As her eyes travel the length of the poster, her face begins to sag slightly, her wrinkles more pronounced and almost ever-present smile fading. She seems to shrink into herself, and show her age as she lowers the paper, and meets Malic's eyes. "So, it had come to this?" Her lips trembled as her eyes watered slightly. "Please forgive this old woman for not being able to do more for you Malic. You deserve so much more than I have given you, and I'm so sorry that these silly laws are forcing you to do this."

Her lower lip trembles slightly as she grasps Malic's hands. He gently squeezes her hands and offers her a faint smile. "It's alright Ms. Chloe, you've done more than enough. You've given me a home when I was alone and helpless in this world, and you've given me a family, one that I can come back to. And even though I wasn't officially adopted, I've adopted you and these children as my family. So please, don't be sad." Malic's voice comes out smooth and softly as he comforts the older woman, taking a hand and placing it on her shoulder.

This seems to break what composure she had managed to muster, and she breaks down, tears flowing fast and feely down her cheeks as muffled sobs sound from behind her hands clasped against her face. They stay like this for a few minutes, Malic offering silent support for Ms. Chloe. She manages to compose herself again, wiping away evidence of tears with a handkerchief she pulled from a pocket. Malic takes her hand yet again, but this time helps her up from her chair, and assists her inside the building.

They both walk into the kitchen, and Malic helps prepare one of the last breakfasts he will have at the orphanage. When the children come down from their rooms, they are also given the news, although their reactions are much less controlled that that of Ms. Chloe. They bawl and cling to Malic, their small hands clutching whatever parts of him they can reach. Pandemonium rages in the room, and it take a while before the efforts of Malic and Ms. Chloe can pacify them.

Throughout the rest of the day, the children hover around Malic, reluctant to spend any less time with him than they must. The afternoon is spent in the fields and the edges of the forest groves, playing games like tag and hide-and-go-seek, until the children are exhausted. A bemused Ms. Chloe and Malic lead the tired children inside, where a series of baths and showers are given before bed.

As Malic lays on his cot for one last night, he can't help but slip out again to the roof. He climbs his way back up and looks up at the clear night sky that he had watched for so many nights prior. 'I wonder…what new night skies I will find…out in this new word' His gaze lingers on the brilliant stars and the looming full moon before raising an open hand towards the moon, clenching his fist in the air, covering the moon from his view as his eyes seem glow from the moonlight, before his fist falls down to his side, his eyes drooping. A small yawn escapes his lips, before his eyes fully close, the night sky disappearing from his view as he falls asleep here, at his home, for the last time.

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Malic was awoken in early morning by the sound of heavy wingbeats drawing nearer to the orphanage. He sits up and blearily looks around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He catches a glimpse of a steadily growing shape over the treetops on his right. Over the next few moments, the figure grows in size and clarity as it draws nearer, and Malic can finally make out the shapes features.

It was a large bird pokemon, with mostly brown feathers, excluding the cream underbelly and the feathers on the inside of its wings. A large plume sits atop its head, the center feathers a yellow color while the outside ones a vibrant reddish orange, the same color as the trailing tail feathers behind it. Atop its back, a smaller figure rides this magnificent pokemon, clad in the distinctive dark orange vest and hat of a pokemon Ranger.

They come closer, swooping down as they enter the clearing the building is situated in, and coming to a landing a few meters in front of the orphanage that was deceptively gentle for such a quick descent. The ranger hops off the pokemon, holding out a pokeball. "Pidgeot, return." A red light shoots out from the small red and white sphere, striking the now identified Pidgeot in the chest, washing over it, and then dissolving the pokemon into red light that shot back into the pokeball.

Malic takes a better look at the ranger. He stands a few inches taller than Malic, around 6'3 or so, with a tan skin tone. His short cropped black hair just barely peeked out from under his official Pokemon Ranger cap with the logo of the Hoenn Ranger Corps on it, a yellow upside-down triangle whose point is interrupted by a yellow horizontal bar spanning the width of the triangle base. He wears a high collared orange sleeveless vest with black trim over a form fitting dark grey shirt that is tucked into looser, flowing pants of the same color. His shoes are hiking boots of the same orange color as his hat and vest, but with white accents instead of black.

His dark grey eyes seemed to project a self-confidence as they were sweeping over his surroundings. His face is smooth with just a dusting of stubble, hinting at his younger age, but still obviously several years Malic's senior. He places his pokeball in one of the various pockets located on his pants and pulls from another pocket a piece of paper.

The distance between Malic and the ranger is too great for him to make out any details of the paper, and the ranger folds it up soon after pulling it out, apparently satisfied, before he walks towards the orphanage's front door. Malic, after a few seconds of contemplation, internally shrugs and goes back to laying on his back, gazing up at the skies filled with drifting clouds dancing with the wind.

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Ranger Arthur Dremble was a fairly experienced ranger, having served the Hoenn branch for about five years. At age twenty, fresh out of basic training, he was assigned to a station situated between Lilycove and Fortree, located in the thick humid jungles that occupy that region.

His proficiency rapidly grew in response to the harsh environment and constant incursions made by some of the more territorial pokemon in the area. By age twenty-two, he was promoted to senior Ranger. His achievements, due to his natural talent in battling and compounded by his relentless pursuit of self-improvement, caught the attention of the higher ups in the Ranger Corps.

This led to him, at his current age of twenty-three, being on a fast track to becoming the successor to the north-eastern regional commander. However, at the moment, he was still a regular member of the Corps, and his mission was to escort a trainer potential from Grovewood to Professor Birch's lab in Littleroot. Having flown with Gale, his Pidgeot, whose species could achieve speeds exceeding the sound barrier, his trip only lasted close to an hour and half to get from Fortree to Grovewood.

As they flew barely above the treetops, Gale's wings occasionally skimming the tops leaves, Arthur was able to make out the clearing that held Grovewood, the rising sun illuminating the polished wood that composed the wooden wall surrounding the small community. Gale gives a short shriek as she pushes herself with a powerful flap of her wings, propelling them the remaining distance in the blink of an eye.

She banks down, seamlessly bleeding off speed as she comes to a feather-light landing right in front of the building listed on the application as the address. It was an older building compared to the others in the town, its dark wood dulled by time. A fairly large wooden statue of a Kangaskhan sits atop the arch as a small sign off to the side catches his eye. It reads _Grovewood Orphanage_ in carved faded words on a simple wooden plaque planted next to the entrance of the building.

Arthur pulls Gale's pokeball from his pocket and returns her, pocketing the ball afterwards as he pulls an application from his other pocket, which has the name Malic printed in neat handwriting on the front of the page. He soon pockets this paper as well, and heads to the front door. He raps his knuckles against the solid wood door three times, the sharp click of his hand meeting the door ringing through the early morning stillness.

A few moments later, an older woman opens the door, her eyes peering at him from behind small circular spectacles. "How may I help you young man?" She asks, her hand pushing her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose as she does so.

Arthur clears his throat, "Good morning Ma'am. I'm Arthur Dremble, a ranger here to escort a person by the name of Malic to Littleroot town in response to his application to be a sponsored trainer of the Hoenn region and the PWO." His formal and stiff delivery was met with silence for a few moments, before the woman chuckles slightly. A slight blush flashes across Arthur's face, but he kept his composure for the most part as the woman's laughter continues for a brief time.

As she calms down, she eyes him critically, her jovial demeanor still present in her face. "Ah, I'm sorry for laughing young man. I'm Ms. Chloe, the matron of this orphanage. So, you're the one who's escorting Malic, huh?" He nods, and she opens the door wider, indicating with her hand to enter.

As he steps in, the sounds of loud conversation and laughter greets his ears as he is led to a larger room, which is mainly occupied with a long wooden table, and a group of children occupying it. As he steps into the room, the children all pause their talking and stare at him.

A stare down occurs, the wide innocent eyes of the children focusing on him, lasting for a moment that seems to stretch for hours, before they all seem to teleport from their chairs into a ring around him, a clamor of questions ringing through the room. "A ranger!? So cool!" "Do you have pokemon!?" "Can we see?" "Will you play with us?" Arthur is quickly overwhelmed by them, his dazed attempts of answering overrun by a flood of new questions or comments.

Ms. Chloe smiles bemusedly from the doorway, watching as the childish exuberance quickly melts the formal exterior of the ranger, rendering him a flustered and confused mess. She eventually calls them off, much to their disappointment. She leads them outside, and they are tailed by an exhausted ranger. "Terribly sorry for that Arthur. We don't get too many visitors here, and you having pokemon riled them up more than usual"

Arthur stares at the laughing and screaming children now running around in the field, and a small smile forms on his lips. "That's alright Ma'am, I didn't mind. Although, would you mind pointing out Malic to me?" He rests his back against the back wall, crossing his arms as he sighs in relief, grateful for the buildings shadow. Ms. Chloe gives a sort of weary chuckle at that as she too stands next to the wall. "I'm afraid finding Malic won't be that easy Arthur. He has the habit of being in the most inconvenient places for people to find him. I honestly haven't the faintest idea where he might be now."

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Little did they know that Malic, awakened for the second time today, listened from his perch on the roof just above their heads. 'So, he's my escort, huh?' Malic languidly thought as he stared out across the field of swaying grass and laughing children, the sunlight transforming the grass into shimmering ripples as the wind dances through it. He breathes in deeply, taking in the sight of his home, his family, for one last time before being forced out into the world.

What he was doing might have been childish, hiding away from the ranger, but he wanted, no, he needed to see this view one last time. To burn this place of memory and happiness into his mind. Malic knew that it would be a long time before he would be able to return, and by then the world would have changed him. He would no longer be the Malic of Grovewood orphanage, but instead a trainer of the Hoenn league, and the PWO. A resigned sigh escapes him as he sits up, his spine cracking a few times as he stretches his arms up into the air, arching his back.

He stands up and proceeds back into the boy's room, much like how he had done so a few days prior. He grabs his bag, an older brown leather bag with a wide, padded leather strap that crosses his chest, going over his right shoulder and connecting to the bottom of the bag by his left hip. The slim, one pocket design of the pack made it rest flush against his body, promoting a streamlined look. Despite its relatively small size, the pack held a few specially made Devon Corp storage containers, each in the shape of a small grey box, each side being about 5 inches with a black diamond button in the center of one of the sides.

They possessed similar functions as pokeballs, able to absorb and store material, but instead of living creatures, they are utilized to store the inanimate objects, such as tents, clothing, medicine, and pretty much everything else. The amount of space each unit possesses varies in price, with the cheapest ones holding about 20lbs, and the most expensive holding up to 500lbs. Malic's possessions, comprised of a few pairs of clothes, his art supplies, and the small amount of berries that Ms. Chloe was able to provide him, only occupied 1 of these cheap 20lb holding units, leaving him with only one other available for use. He picks up the bag and uncovers a brown package hidden underneath.

Curiously, he sets the bag down again and starts to open the package. A few moments later, the top pops off and reveals a folded brown leather duster jacket. The smooth soft Tauros leather on the outside was dotted with bronze buttons lining one side, shining slightly in the room's dim light. The inside was a simple navy-blue cloth lining, holding Mareep fleece inside for insulation and comfort. Malic holds it up, and slips it on, feeling the slight but comforting weight of the jacket settle on his shoulders, the hem falling about mid-way down his calf.

He slides his bag on, adjusting the padded strap to rest on his shoulder and the bag to lie flat against his back, the darker brown leather of the bag contrasting with the lighter brown color of the jacket. Finally prepared, Malic descends the stairs to the first-floor hallway, and heads towards the door leading out back to the field. He pauses for a few moments just before the door's threshold, his hand resting on the handle hesitantly. Breathing in deeply, he steels himself and opens the door, stepping out into the bright morning sun.

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The sudden opening of the door a few feet to the side of Arthur causes his body to tense, his hand dropping down to a pokeball on his waist. His body is off the wall, slightly hunched in a position to either run or fight. His eyes dart towards the source of the sudden noise, only to see a red headed teen step out of the doorway, his cyan eyes darting towards Arthur, meeting his eyes with a level gaze.

Arthur forces his body to relax, his muscles loosening, and he straightens up, realizing that the teen is a few inches shorter than himself. Ms. Chloe speaks up from her spot in the shade, "Ah Malic! Perfect timing, we were just talking about you." Arthur studies the now named Malic a bit closer. 'So this is Malic, huh?' He observes Malic a bit closer, noticing the lax posture and bored gaze directed at himself. 'He certainly isn't what I was expecting' Arthur steps forward and extends his right hand, "I'm Arthur Dremble, a Ranger sent to safely escort you to Professor Birch's lab for the PWO trainer recruitment program. Are you prepared to leave?"

Malic's eyes harden at the mention of leaving for a moment, before regressing back into the seemingly default bored expression on his face. Malic reaches his hand forward and grasps Arthur's hand, the firm pressure surprising Arthur momentarily. Malic then turns to Ms. Chloe, who steps forward and tightly hugs him, her short stature making her head bury into his chest as soft sobs come from her. Her shoulders shake slightly, punctuating each ragged breath she breathes in between sobs. This continues for a few minutes, while Arthur awkwardly waits to the side, eager to get on the way but unwilling to interrupt the moment he was witnessing. Eventually, they separated, Ms. Chloe's face blotchy from crying, her tear tracks highlighting the redness of her eyes and cheeks.

Malic steps away from her embrace and walks towards Arthur. "Ready to go now?" Arthur asks as he reaches down to his belt and grasps Gale's pokeball, enlarging it with a press of the button. The teen nods, and Arthur tosses the pokeball into the air. The pokeball opens in midair and a burst of white light ejects from it, pushing the pokeball back in the air towards Arthur, who catches it easily. The light coalesces into Plume, who lets out a shrill shriek as she stretches her wings out, sending a short gust of wind careening into Arthur and Malic, rustling their hair and clothing. Plume's sharp eyes catch sight of Malic standing next to Arthur, and she hops forward to be face to face with the boy, her beak only a few inches from him. They stare at each other, the Pokémon's piercing black eyes gazing directly into Malic's eyes, his gaze seeming to harden as neither side gives in. A few moments pass, before Arthur lightly smacks the shoulder of Malic, breaking his concentration.

Malic blinks in surprise as Plume seems to nod to herself, and offers her back to Arthur and Malic, lowering her body and extending her wing forward to let them climb on. Arthur smoothly scales up her back, settling himself before extending a hand to Malic, who takes it after a moment of hesitation. He scrambles on, his assent not nearly as smooth as Arthur's. He catches Ms. Chloe waving out of the corner of his eye, but before he can return the gesture, a sudden rush of wind forces his eyes closed.

He feels himself being shot into the sky, the wind whistling in his ears, his arms tightly grasping the jacket of Arthur in front of him. He cracks open an eye wearily as the wind seems to settle, only for both his eyes to open wide as he stares down at his home. The shining rooftops, the swaying treetops, all able to be seen at once. He slowly turns his head, stunned as he sees the ocean, a glimmering sheet of blue stretching well out to the horizon, the small white forms of Wingull and Pelipper able to be seen diving into the water.

In front of him, Malic can see a fast approaching clearing in the forest, the angular shapes of houses and buildings in stark contrast with the greenery surrounding it. As they get closer, the vague shapes sharpen into brick buildings, small slivers become dirt roads and paths, and small movements are revealed to be people walking around. A faint murmur in the wind gradually becomes louder as they fast approach what Malic recognizes as Littleroot Town, and the starting point for his new life.

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Professor Birch is a well-known figure in the town of Littleroot, respected and adored for his jovial nature and his position as the pokemon professor of Hoenn. He is a tall man, about 6'3 with broad shoulders and a bit of a belly. He has short brown hair that seems to be in a natural wavy state, a squarish face, a brown close-cropped beard and kind brown eyes. He is always seen dressed casually, wearing a blue T-shirt under an unbuttoned white lab coat, khaki shorts with a black belt and sandals on his feet. He is constantly out doing field work, trudging through the hot and humid climate of Hoenn to study the habitats of pokemon, observing their natural behaviors and interactions. In fact, it is quite rare to find the professor anywhere near his lab, and never for very long. Which is why it had come as a surprise for the people of Littleroot to find out that not only was Professor Birch at his lab, but he had been for the past week. A few well-intentioned people had enquired about this, wondering if he was feeling ill. The answer they were given by his lab assistants only served to confuse them. "Professor Birch is currently undergoing the greatest challenge he has ever faced in his life."

Professor Birch gasps as he wrestles with the huge figure, his teeth bared as he swipes with his improvised weapon, leaving a series of marks upon his mortal foe. But just as soon as he did, it vanished, replaced with a new unblemished surface. He growls as he reaches for the pokeball at his side, calling out his faithful partner to help him combat the foe. Inferno, his Blaziken, erupts from his pokeball, the foe seeming to wilt under the wave of heat produced by him. "Inferno lets end this here and now! Use- "A door slams open as Miranda, Professor Birch's assistant, walks in, her heels clacking against the floor as her expression grows stern. "Professor Birch, for the 20th time, you may not burn your paperwork!"

Her ice-cold voice seems to physically strike Birch as he stumbles back, completely defeated. Inferno is in a similar state, the flames usually burning around his wrists snuffed out by the coldness of her tone. They both bow their heads in shame as she gives one last huff and shuts the door loudly as she walks back out, trapping Birch in the room with the foe dreaded by professors all over the globe, paperwork. He cringes as he looks back, the stacks of paper seeming to loom over him as he slowly trudges back to his desk, and resumes writing.

A few hours later, Birch rises from behind his desk, finally finished. He cracks his neck a few times as he walks to the glass door on the back wall of his office. He stares out across the fields, watching the pokemon meander around the enclosure. His face is relaxed, his eyes sparkling as he takes in the result of his life's work, basking in it as he does every single day. He glances back to the huge stack of papers, filled out and stamped with his seal of approval. Although he hates paperwork, and overexaggerates at times, he never grows tired of the results of his labor. The joy of witnessing the start of a pokemon journey, the thrill of seeing both people and pokemon grow and evolve, it is a sensation that he could never give away. He picks up a paper from the top of the pile, and sighs, a small grin on his face. '447 applicants this year,' he thinks to himself. 'Let's hope they know what they're getting into'

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Malic's eye twitches as he sighs, looking out at a crowd of a few hundred people meandering about in front of a large brick building. A huge pokeball sign that hangs above the main entrance is just visible in the early morning light, the button being replaced with the Pokemon World Organization symbol, an octadecagon pokeball with each corner having the symbol for one of the 18 types. Malic takes one look at the loud and rambunctious crowd and walks to the very edge of the clearing.

He finds a decently tall tree and grabs one of the lower branches. He swings himself up onto the branch and drapes himself lazily along it. He pulls out his sketchbook and starts a rough outline of his flight from yesterday, imparting to the paper his first memory of flying, trying to give his drawing the same sense of wonder that he felt as he looked down on the earth. An hour flies by, quickly joined by another. The once excited and rambunctious crowd has steadily grown quieter, until only hushed conversations remain.

Malic, too absorbed in his drawing, doesn't notice that after 3 hours of waiting, the first person departs from the crowd with a loud proclamation of "Screw this!" After a few more minutes, another person leaves, followed by a few more. As the 4th hour of waiting approaches, about 40 or so had given up and left. Now, even the hushed conversations had died out, leaving the silence to be filled only with the occasional gust of wind, which carried the faint cries of pokemon with it. Malic had completed his sketch, and now busied himself with detailing it, adding the shading and coloring to truly bring it to life.

About halfway through the 4th hour, the doors to the lab open suddenly as a thin man dressed in a lab coat exits the building. The crowd surges up and towards him, questions and accusations being flung towards him. He clears his throat; his voice booms out, amplified by a speaker system. "Potential trainers, if you are still here, congratulations on passing the first test. To be a pokemon trainer, you must become accustomed to waiting long periods of time. A pokemon will not evolve in a day, and there will be times where you must spend hours, even days, tracking down a rare pokemon, waiting for your chance to catch it. If you couldn't manage to wait a paltry 4 hours, then you have no business becoming a trainer. Now, if you will follow me, there are 3 check-in stations in the lab's lobby. Please form 3 lines and state your name when your turn comes."

The crowd floods through the open doors, cheers and talking filling the air once more. Malic places his sketchbook back in his bag and hops down from the branch, landing with a dull thud. He slowly makes his way towards the lab; the lines already having started to spill out of the doors. He takes his place towards the back of the right line, with only a few people behind him. The pace of the lines is quick, and in a few short minutes, Malic enters the lab lobby. It is a professional looking room, with polished tile floors, a reception desk, and is well illuminated with large glass windows and lamps positioned around the room. In front of him, her can see the three booths made up of simple dark blue curtains drawn around a roughly square area.

Every few moments, a trainer will enter the booth, and then exit out the other side and start walking down the large hall behind the booths. Soon, it was Malic's turn, and he brushes his way into the booth. In front of him is a nondescript man sitting behind a folding table with a large pile of papers attached to a clipboard. "Please state your name," he says in a nasally voice, pushing up a pair of small wire rimmed glasses. "Malic." He continues rifling through papers, until he pulls out one that Malic recognizes as his application. "Ahh...yes, well here you are. No prior experience, well then, you go to group C in room 105. It's just down the hall, the 3rd door on your right."

Malic sharply nods and makes his way out the back of the drawn curtains and heads down the hall, joining a few other applicants in their march down the hall. Eventually, he spots 105 next to a door and steps towards it, sliding the door open. As he steps through, he realizes that this is a sort of small auditorium. A small podium with a computer situated on it is in a front area of about 10 square feet, with rows of seats making up the rest of the room, each row sitting slightly higher up than the one before it.

Malic trudges up a staircase on the side of the rows, ascending until he reaches the 2nd to last row. He settles in the seat closest to the stairs, and proceeds to observe the rest of the room. Most of the people seem to be racing to get the seats closest to the front, practically throwing themselves into open seats. A few seem to disregard the fight for the front and instead choose to climb a few rows before finding a seat, like Malic. As more and more people pile inside the room, the seats quickly become filled, and the room is abuzz with nervous and excited chatter.

The room is plunged into darkness as the lights abruptly cut out. The room remains in darkness for a few moments, before a single spotlight shines down onto the podium. Behind the podium, Professor Birch stands with his arms crossed across his chest and a broad grin on his bearded face. "Well now, I see we have quite the turn out! For those of you who don't know, I am Professor Birch, the lead pokemon professor for the Hoenn region!" The clear rich baritone of Birch's voice reverberates throughout the room, able to be clearly heard by all within it. "Now, if you are here, that means that you wish to start your own pokemon journey. Well, it is my pleasure to assist you in that regards. Today, you shall be tested, and those of you that pass shall be given the opportunity to embark on your very own adventure." Birch presses a button on the podium, and the lights all come on again. Another press causes a screen above the podium to switch on with the PWO logo slowly spinning around.

"As you should all be aware of, those of you participating in this program are sponsored by the PWO and the Hoenn League. As such, certain expectations are to be met in order to justify your sponsorship, and the perks it provides. First, you must participate in the Hoenn League championship within 2 years of obtaining your pokemon. Secondly, the 8 gym badges needed to qualify for the league must come from the 8 Hoenn Major Gyms." This statement was met with groans and whines from the crowd. Even Malic knew of the 8 major gyms, which each held a master of their respective types, and some even said to be on the level of the Elite 4. The typical Hoenn league challenger was expected to have anywhere from 1-4 Major gym badges, and even then, they were usually after months of repeated attempts. The accomplishment of obtaining all 8 was reserved for the elite of the elite trainers, those who were considered prodigies in the field of pokemon battling.

Birch raised his voice slightly to be heard above the clamor. "Now I realize that this may seem to be quite the requirement, so to assist with this, the Hoenn League has decided to provide you applicants with some assistance." He presses a button on the podium, and the screen shifts to a large room, filled with shelves lined with dozens of pokeballs on each shelf. "These pokeball each contain a pokemon that was donated by one of the Hoenn gyms, and they will serve as your starter pokemon. As many of you know, the traditional starters of the Hoenn region are Torchic, Treeko, and Mudkip. Unfortunately, there are not enough to go to all of you. As such, it was decided to mix them in with other pokemon donated by the gyms. You will each be choosing a random pokemon from the selection you see here. They will all be young and relatively inexperienced in battling. However," His face grew severe, and the room seemed to cool several degrees as his eyes scanned the faces in the crowd, "do not underestimate the deadly potential of pokemon. Even a simple Wurmple is capable of killing a human. The weakest pokemon is still stronger than a human. Going on a pokemon journey is a serious endeavor. It is a very real possibility that you could wind up being hurt, or even killed in extreme cases. As such, we will need you to sign this waver signifying your willingness to participate despite the risk."

A stack of paper was passed around, and on it was a simple statement. 'I acknowledge that I have heard the risks of becoming a pokemon trainer and by signing my name, I accept them and wish to proceed with becoming a pokemon trainer.' Malic receives a copy, and after reading, signs his name without any hesitation. Looking around, he sees that many have already done the same. Soon, the entirety of the room has signed and handed the waivers in.

Birch collects them and riffles through them quickly. He nods to himself briefly, before placing them down and smiling at the remaining applicants. "Now if you would all follow me, we will proceed to the testing area." With a clamor of feet and chairs, the mass of people proceeded after Birch as he led them deeper into the lab.

The white artificial light of the lab is quickly replaced by soft warm glow of sunlight as the group comes up to a wall made of crystal-clear windows, revealing a lush open grass field, the long grass swaying gently in the breeze. A few hundred meters from the lab, a dense forest acts as a background for the field, the sunlight causing streams of light to fall through the leaves and illuminate the forest floor in erratic patches. To the right, the gently rolling fields of grass are replaces by harsh pillars of stone and rough rocky hills. On the left was a large deep blue lake with a small stream that ran back into the forest, large smooth rocks dotting the banks on either side.

Birch walks past the window to a door with a small keypad off to the side. Punching in a quick series of numbers, the door opens with a hiss of air. He motions for the group to follow him and steps inside. Malic follows along with the crowd and enters the same room that had been shown on the monitor just a few minutes ago. His eyes are instantly transfixed upon the shiny metallic surfaces of the pokeballs lining the room. Birch stands in the middle of the room with several of his aides, each holding a clipboard in their hands. "Please follow the person that calls out your name. They will take you to your section of the room." Birch calls out as he waves the clipboard in the air.

"Mark. Jamie. Diana. Sloane. Darryl…." A multitude of names were called, each returning a few minutes later with a pokeball in their hands. Some wore ecstatic expressions, clearly proud of their new pokemon. Others were downcast, cursing their luck and shooting dirty looks at their pokeball every once and a while. After about 20 minutes or so, "Malic."

Malic looks up and notices that it was Professor Birch who called his name. He steps forward, his customary neutral expression in place as he walks up to the professor.

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Birch looks up from his clipboard, observing the tall teen make his way up to him, his longer red hair bouncing with each step. His steps were slow and methodical, walking at his own pace. His head was held high, but his face showed no sign of excitement or anxiety that would normally be associated with obtaining a pokemon. Birch sighs to himself as he motions for the young man to follow him. 'Whatever happened to some good old-fashioned enthusiasm?' Birch muses internally as they reach a shelf with a few pokeballs already missing from it. "Go right ahead young man! Choose your very first pokemon!" Birch pumps a fist in the air, hoping to see some sort of reaction from Malic.

Malic just stares at Birch with a blank expression for a few seconds, before turning back to the shelf, not noticing Birch dramatically kneeling in a corner, idly rubbing a finger on the ground and muttering lowly to himself. Malic looks at the rows of gleaming pokeballs, each identical to the next. As he walks down the row, he closes his eyes and runs a hand along the balls, until something inside of him tells him to stop. He grasps the pokeball underneath his hand, lifting it up to his face, his slightly distorted reflection staring back at him from the metal.

Birch suddenly pops up from behind Malic, his head leaning over Malic's left shoulder. "What are you waiting for? Let's see what you got. Just give it a toss over there!" Birch points to an open space at the end of the shelves. Malic nods and gently lobs the pokeball into the air. The red and white sphere bursts open in mid-air and a whitish-blue light emerges from the opened sphere. The light hits the ground as the ball flies back into Malic's hand.

The light forms a figure, which is revealed after the light vanishes. The pokemon stands on 2 stubby legs with longer arms that end in 2 sharp looking claws. The pokemon itself is covered in short thick tan fur except for the underbelly, which has a pink oval on it and 2 darker brown stripes running widthwise across its back. Its head is round with a tuft of spiked fur on top. Its face is comprised of tired looking half lidded eyes with dark brown rings around them, a pink pig-like nose and a dazed half grin on its face. It looks around slowly, before turning to Malic. "Slaaaa?" It says in a slow questioning manner, its head tilting to one side as it gently sways from side to side.

"Well this is certainly a surprise. I didn't expect Norman to send a Slakoth in. It certainly is a big one though. It think it might be a meter tall, maybe even a bit more" Birch muses to himself as he watches Malic out of the corner of his eye. Birch is well aware that many trainers think of the Slakoth line as worthless and would vehemently disapprove with receiving one in general, much less as their starter. As Birch observed Malic, he realizes that something seems different about him. He can't quite put his finger on it until Malic starts walking over to Slakoth. "Hey, you should be careful! Remember, pokemon can be dangerous if you" His words halt as he sees Malic bend down to Slakoth, who stares back up at him. Neither one moves for some time, both seemingly content to stare at each other.

Birch remains still, his eyes darting back and forth between the small gap between Malic's face and the sharp claws of Slakoth. Malic slowly raises a hand, his motions smooth and controlled as he stretches his hand over towards the Slakoth. The dopey looking eyes lazily trace the hand as it comes closer and closer to Slakoth's head, until it makes contact, gently pressing down, flattening the spikey tuft of fur. Malic begins scratching lightly, and before long, the Slakoth seems even more relaxed than it had previously. It even begins to nuzzle in slightly, scrapping its cheek against the Malic's palm. The petting goes on for a while, before Malic stops and retracts his hand. Slakoth blearily looks up at Malic, and remains motionless for a few more seconds.

Slakoth slowly steps forward, and starts making its way around Malic, until it is facing his back. It raises its arms, and places them on his shoulder, before slowly climbing up his back, until it rests it's head on top of Malic's shoulder. It nuzzles it's cheek against Malics, before closing its eyes. Birch can't help but stare at the spectacle before him in disbelief. His trance is broken by a laugh originating from the previously stoic boy. Malic stands up, his Slakoth securely on his back and already snoozing as he turns back to the professor. His face remains unchanged, but his bright blue eyes almost seem to glow, alight with a spark that Birch is all too familiar with.

"Professor," Malic speaks, his voice smooth and clear, "Do I have to return him to the pokeball? I think he wants to stay out here" Birch smiles, his previous doubts about the boy, no, the young man in front of him all but erased with that simple question. "No, I dare say you don't," he replies, still watching as Malic gently pets Slakoth's head as it lightly snores, a small but genuine smile on his face. 'Once again, I'm reminded of why I became a Pokemon professor. Nothing can match the feeling of uniting people with pokemon. I just wish that they had an easier road ahead of them.' Birch's smile becomes slightly nostalgic, reminiscing in the memories of his youth, with just him and his pokemon against the world. Breaking away from his thoughts, he clears his throat., "I do believe it is time for us to return. There are more people that need to choose a starter after all." At his words, Malic nods, his smile shrinking but still there as he walks with Birch back towards the group, his new partner snoring on his back.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own or am affiliated with Pokemon and its respective characters, only the OC's I create.**

**Hello, I'm SlackTheKing, and I just want to thank all of you who have read the first chapter of my first story ever. I especially want to thank those who have reviewed or favorited. I'm honestly very surprised and honored that so many people have taken the time to read something I wrote, and to give feedback on it. Now, my update schedule for this will be sporadic at best. Ill try to pump out a chapter every couple of weeks, but between college and working, my free time will be limited, so it'll really depend on what life gives me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

As Malic reentered the room, he felt the stares of the other applicants on him. More specifically, on his gently snoring partner perched upon his back. He had been the first one to return with his pokemon outside of its ball, so he assumed that was the reason for their stares. Only as he was passing through the crowds did he understand the true reasons. "Poor guy. Imagine getting a Slakoth as a starter." "I mean, can they even do anything?" "Guess that's one guy who we know who isn't gonna pass" These words and others like it were whispered in hushed tones as Malic passed by, only to be overshadowed by an arrogant looking blonde who sneered at Malic. "Well, I guess it's only fitting that a lower-class peasant gets a lower-class pokemon." He swipes a hand through his slicked back blonde hair and smirks snidely at Malic, a gleam of malice in his beady eyes. Malic's jaw tensed and his hands tightened into fists within his jacket pockets. 'How dare they! Judging a pokemon to be worthless just like that. Disgraceful.' Malic internally fumed as he lightly shoulder checked the arrogant snob as he took up a position near the back of the crowd. Despite his anger, he kept his face relaxed and his body loose. After all, it wouldn't do to wake up his new partner so early into their nap.

The names continued to be called for about another half hour, until all the applicants had received a pokemon. "It seems that we have now provided everyone with a starter pokemon." Birch stands in front of the loosely organized mob and taps his hand with the clipboard. "As of now, the pokemon you have in your possession are your responsibility. By accepting that pokemon, you are considered a pokemon trainer, albeit an unofficial one. As such, its care, feeding, grooming and training falls unto you. This is tested in the second test for you aspiring trainers. Your task is simple. You must prove your ability to survive in the wilderness while maintaining an acceptable level of care for your pokemon. To do this, you must camp out in the Birch laboratory enclosure you saw on your way here. To pass this exam, you will need to live off the land for 5 days. We will be providing you with the same equipment you would receive in the trainer starting kit. We will also provide you with a small booklet of information regarding your starter pokemon, to ensure that you have all the necessary information to take care of them. Are there any questions?" Birch pauses, taking stock of the room as his eyes drift from one side of the room to the other.

After a few seconds of side glances and hushed murmurs, Birch claps his hands with his customary grin on his face. "Excellent! Please follow us to the supply room then" Birch and his aides file out of the room, followed closely by the more eager of the applicants. Malic remains in place, waiting for the crowd to funnel out of the room before starting towards the door. His pace was slow, but his steps were soft and his body steady, preventing jostling of his passenger. He trailed behind the group, the extra weight slowing him down, but he was content to be away from the crowd. He had never really interacted with people his own age, and within a crowd of them, he felt uncomfortable and out of place. There were a few people his own age in Grovewood, but with him spending so much time at the orphanage and helping out Ms. Chloe, he never really had the time to spend trying and making friends. He was quite used to being alone, just him, his sketch book, and his thoughts. 'Although,' he thought to himself as a particularly loud snore brought a wry smile to his face, 'I don't think I'll ever be alone again.' He carefully adjusted Slakoth into a more secure position and continued on behind the crowd.

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The so-called supply room was actually an enormous storage unit, standing about the same height as the lab and stretching about 150 feet long. A door with a keypad, much like the previous one, was next to a giant metal roll-up door, much like the ones used for commercial warehouses. As the group entered the building, they could see metal shelves stretching almost to the ceiling, each lined with various crates and pallets. Birch strode confidently into the maze of shelves, and the group hurried behind him. Occasionally, they would run into a worker, clad in blue overalls with bright yellow hard hats on, accompanied by Machoke carrying crates of varying sizes. They eventually reached the middle of the center of the building, and on a large platform built of pallets was a mountain of backpacks. Off to the right side was a smaller set of boxes, which when opened up revealed stacks of thin books, each with a different Pokémon's name printed on it, and the PWO logo stamped at the bottom and on the spine.

"Please form a line to receive your backpack and your pokemon introductory manual." One of the aides calls out. After a few minutes, a roughly line shape forms, and the aid starts passing out the backpacks. Malic, due to his lagging behind, was the last person in line, and waited patiently for his turn. As the people ahead of him got their backpacks and their booklets, they were directed outside through a back door clearly visible from where they were. The pace of the line was decent, and it only took about 10 minutes before it was finally Malic's turn. The aide holds out the last bag. It was a sling pack, much like the brown leather one he already had, but this was a vibrant green with a silver clasp in the front shaped like a pokeball. The back was segmented into 5 sections, 2 larger sections on top, and 3 smaller sections on the bottom. The larger and smaller segments were separated by a white band that ran widthwise along the center of the bag, with 2 yellow half rings on either side of the band, providing a pokeball-like appearance.

"How much does this bag hold?" Malic asks softly as he takes the offered bag. The aide appears surprised for a few moments, before smiling slightly. "This is a standard 250lb bag that is given to all starting trainers per PWO regulations." Malic nods, holding the bag to his side instead of putting it on, so as to not disturb his Slakoth. "What does it already have in it?" This time, his question was met by an impressed look by the aide. "There is a collapsible tent big enough for 2 people, a thermoregulating sleeping bag, a compass, a small survival knife, water purification tablets, a general pokemon grooming kit, a 50ft. length of nylon cord, a 20 by 20 plastic sheet, and a map of the enclosure. Altogether that's about 20 pounds." The aide pauses, then continues with a slight color of approval in his voice.

"Hey kid, good thinking on asking what you had before going off. Not too many trainers think about this stuff before its too late." Malic ducks his head in appreciation and walks over to the booklet area. Birch walks up with an apologetic and slightly strained smile. "Malic, I am sorry to say that due to some technical mishaps," at this, he shoots a glare at one of his aides, who squeaks and hides behind crate, "we did not receive an introductory guide for Slakoth from the PWO. As such, we are willing to compensate you for our lack of preparation and gift you with an additional item. Unfortunately, there are a few restrictions. I am not authorized to give you pokeballs or a pokedex, since to be in possession of an empty pokeball or a pokedex, you must first be a registered trainer. But I still wanted to make up for the lack of information you will receive with something that shall be useful. Thus, I have decided to gift you with two things: a spare Super class fishing rod I had lying around, and the knowledge that your Slakoth there knows the moves Scratch and Yawn."

He then reaches into his side bag and pulls out a fishing rod. The handle is wrapped in dyed purple Sharpedo skin, gifting excellent grip and stability. The reel was polished to a shine, holding within it the famous Super grade fishing line, said to even be able to withstand the force of a raging Gyarados. The rod itself was beautifully crafted, each segment blending seamlessly with the next, and in alternating dark silver and purple colors. Malic was shocked, so much so, that his neutral expression dropped as his eyes widened and his mouth even hung open a little. The super rod was **the** rod, the pinnacle of fishing rods. Trainers usually never got one due to the sheer price of it. Only the most dedicated water type specialists, or the most successful trainers are ever seen possessing one, and that was after years of saving up.

To be gifted with one before his journey had even begun was nothing short of miraculous. He gingerly accepts it, carefully fitting it into a side pocket built into the trainer bag for just such items. "Thank you, Professor. I am grateful for the generosity you have shown me." He bows in a traditional Hoenn gesture of gratitude, a deep inclination of the neck with his fist pressed into an open palm. Malic picked up his newly acquired bag and walked out the back door, following the rest of the applicants. He squinted as the bright sunlight momentarily blinded him, before he heard a gruff voice off to his left. "Well, I guess there was one more. Oh well, not a problem." As Malic turned toward the voice, he felt something lightly grasp his arm, and he found himself suddenly a few feet in the air above a small pond. He had just enough time to wonder what had just happened before he and Slakoth plunged into the water.

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"Phew! Guess that's all of them." A man dressed in the same ranger outfit as Arthur pushed of from the wall that he was leaning on. He was a giant of a man, standing almost 7 feet tall. His uniform was tight, accenting his broad shoulders and muscular physique. He had a dark tanned complexion, close cropped black hair, dark brow eyes that appeared almost black, and series of 2 jagged scars cutting across his forehead down the bridge of his nose, seeming to divide his face in half. On his chest was pinned a badge with the name Bruce Gowls inscribed upon it.

About where Malic had been standing was a pokemon that almost looked human. It stood a little over 5 feet tall with green hair that curled over its face and the sides of its head, leaving one gentle red eye exposed. Its body was white and drees-like with the exceptions of its hair, arms, and inside of its dress. Its arms were long and topped with 3 fingers, and its legs were slim and delicate. A red rounded horn protrudes from its chest, while a smaller and more rounded one emerged from its back. A line of green extended from its arms and down its side to connect to the middle of the front horn.

"Good job Grace." He growled out in his gravelly voice as he stretched his back, a few loud pops resulting from his efforts. "Gar garde!" The Gardevoir cheered and did a fist pump as she danced around happily, skipping in circles around him. He gave a grunt of amusement as he pulled out her pokeball and returned her, before clipping it back onto his belt. "Heh, I wonder how many of those kids will actually make it. Pretty dirty of Birch to not tell them what the true test is going to be. Oh well, not my problem."

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Malic sputtered for air as his head erupted from the water, trying to breathe while also coughing up the water that had gotten into his lungs. He treaded water for a few seconds and was trying to get his bearings when something brushed against his ear."Slaaaaaaa" He looked back and stared directly into the eyes of his now awake Slakoth, who managed to still look sleepy and relaxed while soaking wet. He turned away and started focusing his attention to his surroundings. He was in a shallow pond surrounded by fairly dense forest, the thick green canopies blocking most of the light from falling on the forest floor.

Malic makes his way out of the pond, swimming a few short feet to the nearest bank, and passing through the floating lily pads and cattails growing close to the shore. He stood up, his clothing soaked and heavy, but thankfully, his bag was completely dry. He heard a wet thump behind him, and his back suddenly felt a lot lighter. He turned to see Slakoth on the ground, slowly shambling over to a patch of sun that fell on a larger rock near the pond's edge. Slakoth made its way up the rock, and settled down on it, draping itself over the sunned rock, letting out a sigh as it started to doze in the sun. Malic chuckled at the content look on Slakoth's face as he headed over to the rock. He removed his jacket, shoes, socks, and pants, and draped them over rocks near the one that Slakoth was on, leaving himself in just his black tee shirt and boxers. He sat down with his back pressed against Slakoth's rock, the warm sunlight helping to ease the chill of the cold pond water. He pulled his apparently waterproof bag into his lap and opened it up, pulling out all the content from it. Everything the aide had said was in the pack as promised, but as Malic opened up the map, a folded piece of paper fell out.

Malic picked it up and unfolded it, revealing it to be a note from Professor Birch. "Greetings pokemon trainer hopefuls. As I'm sure you are now aware, I hadn't told you everything about this test. To be a pokemon trainer is to venture into the deepest and most dangerous parts of our world with nothing but you and your pokemon. As such, the goal of this exam is twofold. You must survive off the land for 5 five days while caring for you and your pokemon as previously explained, but within those 5 days, you must also navigate your way back to the lab. Good luck! –Professor Birch. P.S. Beware wild pokemon"

Malic glances over at the map. The Birch Lab was located almost directly in the center of the enclosure. However, the enclosure stretched several miles in any given direction from the lab, forming a rough circle about 20 miles in diameter. The enclosure was quite varied in climates. Steep cliffs and cragy mountains made up the southern end, a huge lake and beach was to the north, and forests and grasslands occupied the east and west. From the looks of his surroundings, Malic knew that he was in one of these 2 directions from the lab.

As Malic studied the map, he heard a faint sound of underbrush rustling. He paused, turning his full attention towards the sound as it seemed to draw closer. Malic slowly stood up, his hand going towards the survival knife laid out before him on the ground. He didn't notice Slakoth perk up behind him, an odd gleam in its eyes. From the bushes a few meters away, a small four-legged shape emerged. The first thing Malic noticed was the grey fur covering the majority of its body, with the exception of its face, paws, and belly. Its ears were pointed straight up, swiveling around as it slowly padded forward. The red eyes contrasted the yellow sclerae as they darted around, the red nose twitching as it sniffed the air.

A bushy grey tail and 2 gleaming fangs protruding from its lower jaw completed the look of a Poochyena. Malic cursed in his head as he saw the pokemon. He had heard the Poochyena packs howling at night back in Grovewood and knew that they were pack pokemon. Where one was, more were sure to follow soon. He began to quietly gather his equipment, grateful that the rocky outcrops they were at shielded them from the Poochyena's view, at least for now. He had managed to gather everything and was about to grab Slakoth when he heard a low growl behind him. Slowly turning around, he saw a second Poochyena emerge from the underbrush, teeth bared and hackles raised.

The growling attracted the attention of the other Poochyena, who ran over to investigate. Once it saw Malic, it too crouched down and started growling. With another Poochyena present, they seemed emboldened as they slunk closer, one creeping forward on either side of Malic. He backed away, pressing his back against the rock where Slakoth had been perched. He looked up, but couldn't see Slakoth. They approached closer and closer, until one of them leapt at Malic with a snarl. Malic held up his arms in front of his face, trying to protect his head from the inevitable assault. The sound of flesh tearing echoes in the small clearing but was followed by a startled yelp. His eyes remained closed, awaiting the onslaught of pain, but after a few moments, he opened his eyes. Before him, he saw Slakoth, one lanky arm slowly falling back to its side, the sharp claws wet and red. A few feet away, the attacking Poochyena whimpered and licked at a deep gash along its left front leg, the blood oozing down the limb, staining the Poochyena's fur a dark rusty color. The other Poochyena snarled aggressively but backed up slightly till it was level with the newly injured Poochyena. Slakoth looked back at Malic, its eyes still half closed, its face still in a dopey smile, but a different feeling seemed to surround the Slakoth now. Maybe it was the way its eyes darted back and forth between the two Poochyena, or the way its body was held to its full height, arms topped with sharp claws glinting menacingly as they gently swayed from side to side. Whatever the case was, Malic suddenly felt a lot more confident in their odds of getting out of this mess. "Slakoth, thank you for saving me. Can I count on you to help me out some more so we can get out of this mess?" Malic asks as he straightens up, staring directly at Slakoth.

Slakoth remains motionless for a few seconds, before slowly nodding its head and turning back towards the Poochyena, who seemed to have regrouped in the short time Malic and Slakoth had conversed. They stood side by side, only a few inches between them as they crouched back down again. They charged forward, abandoning their previous tactic as they quickly closed the gap between them and Slakoth. They leapt forward, their fangs bared as they loomed down on Slakoth. "Look out Slakoth!" Malic cried out, fearing the worst. "Slaaaaaa," Slakoth merely slumped backwards with a sigh, its back bending until its head touched the ground. The Poochyena flew right through where Slakoth's upper body had been, and were suddenly launched back when Slakoth's arms slammed up and smashed into the Poochyena's stomachs. Their momentum suddenly reversed, and they crashed back down into the ground roughly, a small skid mark of crushed grass and leaves marking their abrupt descent back down to earth.

Slakoth slowly raises itself back up, resuming its previous stance as though nothing had occurred. The Poochyena lay there, wheezing and whimpering for a few moments, before staggering to their feet and hobbling off back into the bushes. When the other pokemon remained out of sight, and the sound of the rustling bushes had finally faded into the distance, Slakoth changed back into its previous posture, slouching wearily with dull tired eyes. It shambles over to the pond and begins slowly circling its bloody claws in the water. Malic remains on alert for several minutes, the knife held in his hand as he stays crouched, keeping his back firmly against the rocks. The tension in his body slowly begins to seep out as the minutes go by without any sign of the pokemon returning. He cautiously stands up, listens for any signs of movement, and then finally relaxes.

He walks over to his sun-dried clothes and checks if they are still damp. Thankfully, they seem to be dry enough, and he quickly re-dresses. He shrugs on his bag, having placed all his equipment back into the bag, with the exception of the survival knife, which was now attached to the strap crossing over his chest for easy access. A tug on his pants causes him to look down, seeing Slakoth begin its ascent up his legs and waist, until it was perched on his back, head resting on his right shoulder. Malic raises his hand and softly pets Slakoth's head, getting a soft snuffle as Slakoth nuzzles back into his hand. "Thank you Slakoth. I don't know what I would have done without you here." Slakoth slowly blinks, his dopey little smile seeming to grow slightly before humming contently. Malic removed his hand and started walking in the opposite direction the Poochyena had run off in. Within seconds of walking, soft snores fill Malic's ears as Slakoth quickly falls asleep, drawing a small smile from Malic. Despite being attacked only minutes into being here, Malic found himself surprisingly content with the situation. It felt nice for it to be just him and his pokemon, relying upon one another to reach their goal. 'I think I could get used to this' Malic muses as a particularly loud snore which managed to sound a lot like a growling Poochyena made him jump slightly. He didn't notice the slightly cracked open eyes of Slakoth that held just a hint of a mischievous spark as Slakoth's arms wrapped around Malic slightly tighter.

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A few hours passed without incident, and as Malic snacked on a few berries he had found a while ago, he saw the sun was starting to sink in the sky in front of them. 'It'll be night in a few hours. I had better find us a place to stay for the night' Malic gave a quick glance around his general area, looking for anything that seemed appropriate, but with the fading light, the shadows of the tree's made seeing more than a few feet in front of him a challenge. To rectify this, Malic walked over to a relatively study looking tree. He carefully shrugged off his bag and set it at the tree's base, Slakoth draped over it, still dead to the world. He grasped a low-hanging limb of the tree and hoisted himself up. He began climbing the tree, scaling it carefully but quickly. After a minute or two of climbing, Malic was finally able to see over the tree line. Off to his left, a few hundred meters away, was a large tree. Its trunk was broad and tall, stretching hundreds of feet into the air, towering above the other trees around it.

Malic noted the direction of the giant tree and started his climb back down. His feet hit the ground a minute later as he bent down to pick up his bag, hefting it, along with Slakoth, onto his back. He turned in the direction of the tree and started heading for it. A brief five-minute walk had Malic suddenly entering a small clearing that surrounded the tree. As he walked closer, he could see several thick branches dozens of feet in the air, each one almost like a smaller tree growing out from the side of this colossal tree. The giant tree seemed familiar to Malic, who quickly pulled out his map. There, drawn into the map as a sort of landmark, was a large tree, located towards the middle of the Eastern forest. A smile grew on Malic's face as he folded the map and returned it to his bag. Not only will this tree provide shelter, but it also told him exactly where he was in relation to the lab. As he walked around the clearing, he heard a small yawn in his right ear, and felt a bit of movement as Slakoth's face was suddenly right next to his. Malic paused, waiting to see if Slakoth was going to do anything, but Slakoth seemed content to just peer around slowly from his perch.

About a quarter of the way around the tree, Malic notices a hollow in the tree, a large crack that ran from the base of the tree up the trunk, gradually tapering off about 10 feet above the ground. The bottom of the crack was a few feet wide, and it seemed to Malic to be the perfect spot to stop for the night. He headed over to it, navigating his way through the labyrinth of large gnarled roots protruding from the ground. He found that the hollow was spacious, the inside being just large enough for him to lay down comfortably. "Well Slakoth, looks like we're staying here for the night" he sat on the ground inside the hollow, the hollow much wider than the narrow opening has suggested. Slakoth's feet hit the ground and Malic felt the arms around his shoulders disappear as Slakoth stood up and slowly glanced around the hollow. Malic slung his bag around to the front of him and opened it, quickly pulling out his sleeping bag. He also removed an Oran berry he had picked earlier and offered it to Slakoth. A two-clawed hand gently plucks the berry from Malic's hand as Slakoth brings the blue berry to its mouth and starts to nibble at it, soft squelches of berry juice accompanying its eating. Malic unfurls his sleeping bag and settles it in the middle of the hollow. He looks out of the opening to see that night had finally descended onto the world, the trees a few meters away nothing but indistinct shapes swaying in the darkness. Malic would have liked to have made a fire, but since his resting place was a tree, he thought it best not to try and tempt fate. 'At least the tree blocks most of the wind,' Malic muses to himself as a sharp gust of wind blows, whipping the treetops into movement as he could hear it slide across the bark of the giant tree. Malic removed his shoes, and then removed his coat, placing both of them a few feet away from his sleeping bag, leaving himself in his pants, tee-shirt, and socks. He slid into the sleeping bag, feeling the insulated stuffing already start to absorb and reflect his body heat. Malic noticed that the berry eating noises had stopped, and looked around for Slakoth, only to find it starting to crawl inside the bag with him. He smiles lightly and shakes his head in fond exasperation as Slakoth settles onto his chest. Slakoth's face nuzzles against his upper chest for a few moments, seeming to get comfortable, before quickly falling asleep, soft slow snores occasionally vibrating against him. Malic decided to take a page out of Slakoth's book and settle down. In a few minutes, both Slakoth and Malic were lightly snoring inside the hollow, content for the night.

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Birch was once again in his office, watching the reds and violets of the sunset slowly fade as night fell. His expression was somber, the slight frown a stark contrast to his usual jovial grin as he slowly rocked back and forth in his chair. In front of his were six large monitors, each divided into 12 smaller squares. In each square was a live stream of the goings on in his enclosure. Unbeknownst to the applicants, almost every inch of the lab and the surrounding areas that comprise the Birch laboratory were monitored by specially made drones, each equipped with specially made frames and cameras to project an almost constant update on every part of the compound. At the moment, there were a little less than 900 drones currently patrolling, and of these, 450 were each assigned to monitor a specific applicant, following a signal given off by a transmitter imbedded into their pokeball.

Of course, Birch wasn't monitoring the feeds on his own. In fact, an army of lab assistants were assigned to that very task. Birch was just skimming through the feeds, idly flipping through from one trainer to the next. Only a few were active still, blindly stumbling their way through the darkened landscape. Birch winced as a particular trainer managed to walk straight into a tree while arguing with his starter, a particularly mischievous-looking Surskit. Another channel showed four applicants had managed to group up and were sitting around a roaring campfire next to a lake. 'Seems one of them managed to get a fire starter' Birch hummed to himself thoughtfully as he flipped through the next couple, mostly showing sleeping humans inside a tent or sleeping bag. Suddenly, a notice pops up in the corner of his screen. His eyes glance up at it, and after staring for a few seconds, he sighs and reluctantly clicks on it. Immediately, all the drone feeds close, and on his centermost monitor, the screen splits into four sections with figures in each one.

On the top left was a man who seemed to be in his early 50's. He had a full head of white hair that was slicked back with the exception of a few strands that hung down across his forehead. His face was angular and sharp, slight wrinkles creating creases around the corners of his mouth and dark brown eyes. A few small scars were scattered around his face, the pale lines contrasting with his darker tan skin tone. He was wearing a dark blue vest over a white collared shirt, the symbol for the Hoenn region embroidered onto the vest in golden thread, just over the heart. His pants were a matching blue, and his shoes were shined and polished brown leather dress shoes. This was Gram Quinn, the 167th seventh President of the Hoenn Region. To the right of him was a thin and tall young man with light blue hair, icy blue eyes, and a slim handsome face. He wore a dark grey open suit jacket that had 2 black zigzag markings on either side, and the cuffs lined with some sort of metal. He wore it over a white dress shirt with a red ascot tie that puffed forward slightly over his sternum. Upon his jacket was a small pin holding a multi-colored orb with a strange double helix design seemingly embedded into it. His pants were slim black dress pants that went with his formal black dress shoes. Almost everyone in Hoenn would recognize Steven Stone, winner of the 490th Hoenn League and current champion of the Hoenn region.

On the bottom left was a shorter, broader middle-aged man with a light tan complexion. His hair was an auburn color, thick and curly. He was wearing a loose light blue collared shirt with a floral design. Scattered about on the shirt was a logo of a pokeball with 3 circles in the background arranged in a triangle. He wore white knee length shorts and white slip on shoes. Around his neck hung a red PokeNav and hiding his eyes from view were a pair of dark, tinted sunglasses. This was Scott Frankston, owner and founder of the Battle Frontier. The lower right screen was devoid of a figure, the slowly spinning PWO logo the only thing on the otherwise blank blue screen.

"Good evening Mr. President, Steven, and Scott of course. I hope you are all well" Birch said, the strained grin on his face matching his fake jovial tone. Before the others could respond, a heavily synthesized voice interrupted, "We do not have time for pleasantries. Birch, how goes the trainer tests?" Even through the electronic processing, the voice was still gruff and stern, the metallic buzz doing nothing to obscure that. Birch knew that this belonged to the 5th member of the call, the infamously anonymous leader of the PWO. "They are on the second test now, spread out throughout the enclosure with only the standard trainer gear to help them find their way back. We took the liberty of removing most of the dangerous wild pokemon for the duration of the test, so as to not endanger the participants too much." The line was filled with light static for a few moments, before the metallic voice spoke up again. "Release all the wild pokemon back into the enclosure." Birch was stunned, and as he briefly glanced at the others on the call, he could tell that Scott and Steven were as well. Gram maintained a neutral expression, but Birch though he noticed a small vein throbbing in his neck.

"A-Are you crazy!? Most of the wild pokemon were imported as a part of a conservation effort from across the globe! Most of them are way too strong for them to handle. Are you trying to kill them?" Birch was livid as he ranted at the screen. "The PWO has no use for weak trainers. Those who survive are fit to become trainers. Those who don't, well, they wouldn't have amounted to much anyways." The harsh, biting reply left Birch reeling in his seat. He had always known that the PWO leadership was harsh and pragmatic, but this seemed extreme, even for them. "I won't do it! I refuse to initiate a massacre, especially on my lab!" Birch roared out, slamming his fist on the table. "I agree with Birch," A smooth calm voice cuts into the conversation. Steven Stone leans forward with his hands clasped in front of his face. "I cannot, in good conscious, condone throwing wholly unprepared people who just received their pokemon into such a life-or-death situation." "Yeah, gonna have to go with Birch and Steven on this one" A laid-back voice piped in as Scott leaned back in his chair. "Definitely wouldn't look good on Birch or the PWO if most of the contestants died." "Nor would it reflect well on the Hoenn Region." The gruff baritone of Gram barks out.

The conversation fell silent for a few moments, each second seeming to stretch out longer than the last. The silence is broken by the voice crackling back to life. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't wait to ask your opinions before I authorized it." Before Birch can say anything, a loud boom reverberated through the room. Birch springs up to his feet, running to his window, where he can see a large plume of smoke emerging above the treetops. "Don't worry Birch, I didn't have all of the pokemon released. Just enough to make this test a bit more…challenging. I look forward to hearing the results." The lower right feed cut out; the logo being replaced with a blank black screen. "Arceus help them" Birch muttered to himself as loud roars and explosions ring out. He quickly turns from the window and runs back to his desk, the other 3 men looking on with grave expressions. "I need whatever help you can muster right now. Send whoever you can!" Birch practically ordered the other 3, who all nodded in compliance. They quickly shut off their monitors, and the drone feeds came back up on his screens. Birch glanced at them as he quickly grabbed a belt with 5 pokeballs magnetically attached to it. As he watched the feeds, he pressed the button to activate the lab intercom. "Attention all personnel, the wild pokemon have been released back into the enclosure while applicants are still inside. We are initialing code red! This is not a drill! Defense squad! Prepare to cast a perimeter 20 meters from the lab in all directions! Scouting squad, your task is to find and rescue as many people as you can find! Be prepared to fight off some of the more aggressive wild pokemon! I repeat, this is not a drill!"

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Alton Creed cursed as his designer shirt got caught yet again on a low laying branch, the twigs snagging the material and aggravating the already formed holes up and down the sleeves. His white dress pants and dress shoes were caked with mud, and his once gelled back blonde hair was hanging in front of his face in sweaty stringy strands. "Ugh, I can't believe the nerve of that stupid professor! Just teleporting someone like me into the middle of nowhere. Just wait until daddy hears about this!" His ranting was interrupted by the snapping of a twig behind him. A girlish squeal tore from his lips as he threw his pokeball towards the noise, his arms held out in front of his face as he turned his face, eyes closed. A tittering giggle was all that greeted him as his Surskit danced around him, laughing at him. His face grew hot with embarrassment and anger. "Shut up you stupid pokemon!" he yelled out as he stomped his foot, which only served to splash up more mud onto his pants and shoes.

Surskit gave another high-pitched giggle before disappearing into the brush. "You stupid bug! Get back here!" Alton screamed at the bush, expecting the Surskit to obey. Reluctantly, after no response, he started pressing through the brush after Surskit, all the while complaining. "Ugh, why did I have to get stuck with a useless pokemon like you!? I can't wait until I can get some real pokemon from daddy! Then the gym challenge will be a piece of cake! I can't believe some losers actually catch their own pokemon. When you're as important as me, I get people to do that for me." As Alton is ranting to himself, he stumbles out of the thick brush and into a small clearing with a pond. Skittering about on top of the pond is his Surskit, who chirps happily at the sight of him and waves with one spindly leg. A vein throbs angrily on Alton's temple as he grits his teeth. "You led me through all those horrid bushes and trees, just so you could dance on a puddle!? How dare you!?" He shrieks as he picks up a rock and throws it angrily in the direction of the Surskit. The rock flies well over Surskit's head and lands in the bushes, where instead of hitting the ground or a tree with a dull thud, it instead makes a meatier smacking sound. The bushes are still for a moment, and then violently shake as a huge shape emerges from the trees.

It was over 8 feet tall and had a centipede like appearance. Half of its body stood straight up, exposing its dark grey underside. Its body was a darker purple that was segmented. Long antenna like horns emerged from on top its head and on the last body segment, making the pokemon appear even larger. The horns each had lighter purple bands going around it, a thinner one near the tip and thicker ones nearer the middle and base of the horns. Slightly pointed rings of the same color as the bands adorned each body segment. 4 pairs of smaller purple claws lined the upright portion of the pokemon, while 2 pairs of strong long legs carried it, each leg with a darker gray band around its middle. Its face was dominated by a hooking beak-like mouth and piercing amber eyes that are half lidded with a slit black pupil. It let out a low annoyed hiss as it stalked forward, a small scuff mark visible on the armored segment just below its head. Alton paled, his arrogant demeanor abandoning him instantly. He backs up slowly, his body trembling and mouth agape, sputtering nonsense. The Scolipede's horns twitched and its claws chittered against its carapace, its eyes locking onto Alton's retreating form.

A single step forward was made with much greater force, the ground cratering slightly under the force of the stomp as it lowers its head slightly, the large curved horns now pointing in Alton's direction. That was the only warning before Scolipede burst into action, moving deceptively quick for something so large. Its feet pounded against the earth as it covered the distance between itself and Alton in a few seconds, its horns whistling through the air as they thrust straight towards him. It was only through sheer luck that Alton had stumbled moments before, his heels catching on a root, causing him to fall and the horns to impale the tree behind him only inches above his head. The Scolipede's baleful glaze was only inches away from Alton's face, the burning amber eyes glaring daggers at him. He whimpers and scrambles away on his hands and knees, a suspicious stain forming around the crotch of his pants. A mix of snot and tears run down his face as he staggers to his feet. He sees the Scolipede tense and try to move back, only for its horns to remain stabbed into the tree. A few more attempts yield similar results, and hysterical laughter erupts from him, almost doubling him over in its intensity. "Y-you stupid bug! You thought you could kill me!? How fucking arrogant! I'm Alton fucking Creed, and you're just some worthless pokemon!" He screams maniacally, spit flying from his mouth.

His rant was interrupted by the loud crunch of wood, a substantial chunk of the tree's trunk suddenly smashed through as the glowing purple horns on Scolipede's rear slam into the tree. All the bravado that had overtaken Alton vanished in a flash, and he quickly turned around and was about to bolt, when he noticed that Surskit had appeared next to him. Looking down at the small bug type, he was overcome by a sudden hot rage. "This is all your fault. If only you hadn't been such a worthless pokemon, I wouldn't be in this situation." An oily smirk slipped across his face as he bent down to look Surskit in the eyes. "But that's okay Surskit. I forgive you. How about we take this thing on, together?" Surskit nods happily, not noticing the dark manic gleam in Alton's eyes. "Now Surskit, use bubble on that Scolipede! Move in a circle around it and don't stop!" He commands with false cheer in his voice. Surskit darted forward, its spindly legs gliding over the grass as it spews small bubbles from its mouth towards the stuck Scolipede. The small spheres impact against the Scolipede's shell, each one exploding with a small popping noise. The Scolipede grunts, its face betraying nothing but annoyance as it swipes its tail at the tree trunk again, tearing an even bigger chunk of the tree out, exposing its right horn.

One more swing would have the entire tree crashing down, and Scolipede would be free. Surskit danced around the larger pokemon warily, waiting for more orders, but after a few moments of no sounds except for the low annoyed hiss of the Scolipede, Surskit glanced back to where Alton had been, only to see an empty clearing. Surskit hesitantly made its way over to where Alton had been standing, eyes scanning the ground, seeing the muddy shoe prints leading out of the clearing. Surskit's small black eyes widened and welled up with tears as it realized that its trainer had run, abandoning it to its fate as a final crunch of wood sounded behind it, the loud groaning of the tree as it finally collapses. Scolipede raises itself back up to its full height and turns towards the small Surskit menacingly, its amber eyes almost seeming to glow as it stalks forward. Surskit tries to flee onto the water, but the form of Scolipede explodes forward, its legs leaving craters as its horn rapidly grows in size, glowing a light green color as it swings down a Megahorn towards the dashing Surskit. A piercing squeal echoes through the trees before a loud explosion rocks the clearing, a plume of dirt and rocks rising above the treeline, before all falls silent in the clearing.

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It was the roars that pierced through Malic's slumber. More like a physical blow than sound, they slammed into Malic's postition, reverberating inside the hollow that he and Slakoth had taken up shelter in. He bolted up, eyes wide and frantically darting around, trying to identify the source of the roar. Slakoth had already risen and its lazy expression was no longer on its face. Its once droopy eyes were razor sharp and alert, the fur along its body had bristled and its claws were hooked and held at the ready. The roar sounded again, this time closer and accompanied by a piercing shriek that cut through the air, the clash of the 2 sounds grating against Malic's ears as he tried in vain to blot the out with his hands over his ears. After they died down, Malic acted quickly, gathering all of his gear before grabbing Slakoth and placing him on his back. The roar had come from the east, towards the deeper portions of the forest, but sounded like it was headed his way.

As he skirted around the tree to head west, towards the lab, he saw a bright flash of light in the distance and felt the ground beneath his feet tremble as a sudden tremor shook the area. He braced himself against the tree, the explosion causing leaves to fall off the giant tree and tumble down in a rain of greenery. As soon as the ground settles, Malic takes off running, going as fast as he can as he dashes through the forest, sticking to clearer paths when he can. His eyes are dilated as they dart around the shadowy forest. The moon hangs large and full in the sky above, casting a haunting glow of moonlight across the forest. Malic occasionally hears the loud cries of pokemon, or people in some cases, but he doesn't stop moving. He can feel the comforting grip of Slakoth on his back as he has to force himself to keep moving, to not move towards the confused and terrified cries that seemed to surround him on all sides. In fact, as Malic slowed down slightly, he realized that they did surround him, and seemed to be getting closer. A light fog started to roll in as all the explosions and cries ceased at once, leaving Malic and Slakoth surrounding in a faintly swirling mist that thickened every second.

A pair of footsteps was heard off to his right, echoing like heels on tile despite being in the forest. A small figure appeared out of the mist, and it took Malic a few seconds before a look of shock appeared on his face. "M-Ms. Chloe?" He croaked out in confusion. She smiled and nodded silently, and then beckoned towards Malic with her warm motherly smile. Malic took a step before he realized what he was doing, and then another, as a warm fuzzy feeling enveloped him, comforting him. He had made it about halfway there before he felt a slight pinprick on his arm. Hissing slightly, he turned his head and saw the small bleeding puncture that Slakoth's claw had made. "What was that for Slakoth?" He was genuinely confused as to why his pokemon had just injured him, before he realized that the warm feelin he had previously felt was gone.

As he turned back to Ms. Chloe, who still had her arms outstretched, he instead got a chill up his spine. 'Ms. Chloe can't be here, she's all the way back in Grovewood. Something isn't right here' He narrowed his eyes before picking up a small pebble on the ground. He chucked it at the figure of Ms. Chloe, and it passed straight through, the image of her rippling around the pebble before slowly dissolving away. In its place was a small floating black sphere about a foot in diameter, surrounded by swirling purple mist. Suddenly, a large grinning pink mouth appeared, almost splitting the sphere in half as two fangs protruded from the top of the mouth. Two large eyes appear, small slit black pupils locking onto Malic and Slakoth as a haunting cackle traveled along the wind. It gave them a large malicious grin as it rushed forward, flying straight towards Malic, a large tongue extended from its mouth. Malic ducks and slides to one side as the tongue whips through the air, smacking into a tree and cracking the bark at the same level as Malic's head. Malic skids to a stop as he faced the pokemon who was rushing at him again. "Slakoth, use Yawn." A few light pink bubbles appear from over Malic's shoulder and lazily drift in the path of the charging pokemon.

They pop on impact, and the pokemon's charge is halted as its eyes slowly drift closed, and it falls asleep a few feet away from Malic and Slakoth. Malic sighs in relief and starts to walk out of the clearing. He reaches up to push some brush out of the way, but he is startled when only one of his arms responds. His right arm hangs limply, nothing from his shoulder down moving or able to be felt. As he grips his arm, he feels something wet on his hand. Pulling it up to his face, he sees traces of blood on his hand. He glances back down at his non-responsive arm and sees a small gash on his upper bicep, blood slowly oozing out and down his arm. Gritting his teeth, he starts on his way again, having to go slower since he has been reduced to one arm. Slakoth helps where it can, using Scratch to remove vines and branches higher up while Malic focused on the brush down below.

As they progressed, Malic could feel the numb sensation from his shoulder slowly spreading, gradually creeping up towards his neck and chest. His breath came in short harsh pants as he pushed on, exerting himself in a desperate race against the spreading numbness. He ran through the underbrush, sacrificing some degree of caution for the pure speed of a semi-reckless charge. He ran directly west, or at least the direction he hoped was west. By the time the lack of feeling had canvased the entire shoulder and had started running down his side and chest, he and Slakoth burst through the tree line, and stepped into a large grassy field. There, only a few hundred feet away, was the Lab, spotlights blazing and scanning around the fields. Malic was heaving, his entire body coated in a layer of sweat and grime as he grinned and started forward.

The long flowing grassland seemed peaceful, no sudden screams or explosions occurring around him. He stumbled about halfway there when the world turned on its side. The land and sky had shifted until they both ran up and down, the lab clinging on the earth like a Spinarak on a tree. 'Or a Slakoth on my back' Malic's delirious thoughts were interrupted by a sudden bright light being shone into his eyes. He tried to raise a hand to block it, but he was so comfortable on this soft grass that he didn't want to move. His eyes suddenly felt so heavy, and so did his chest. Breathing was so much work, maybe it would be easier to just not. His eyes started drooping, but he could make out 2 blurry figures suddenly pop out of nowhere. He could feel himself being lifted up by something and rushed forward at incredible speeds. The last thing he saw was Slakoth on his chest, swiping at some unseen thing, before the world went black.

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Birch stood silently in his office, gazing through the large windows that faced towards the enclosure as the morning sun rose. The previous jovial gleam in his eyes had disappeared, leaving a resigned weariness in its place as he sighed. A soft knock on his door announced the entrance of his assistant Miranda. "Sir, most of the search parties have returned. The applicants are being gathered-" "How many?" Birch interrupts in a soft desolate voice, his words weighing heavily in the air. Miranda shifts in place slightly and clears her throat softly before continuing," The applicants are being-" "How many Miranda?" Birch's voice raises in volume as he whirls around, hard lines of anger and despair etched into his face as he stares directly at her. Her eyes dart down briefly, her mouth pursed into a hard line. "…Ninety-eight sir." Birch sinks into his chair, staring off into space. "Ninety-eight" he repeats to himself as he leans his head back, a blood red sunrise rising behind him.


End file.
